


With the Devil on the Deep Blue Sea

by whopooh



Series: Devils, Detectives, and Questionable Decisions [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Jack Robinson meets the devil, M/M, post-canon (after S3) for MFMM, pre-canon canon compliant for Lucifer, the devil is rather delighted, we really needed these two to meet didn’t we?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 15:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21478774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: The one where Jack Robinson meets Lucifer Morningstar.Jack is on his way to England by boat, coming after Phryne as she asked him to, when he suddenly sees a lone man struggling in the middle of the ocean. When the mystery man is saved, he claims to be Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil himself.Jack decides he wants to solve this enigma. Lucifer is more interested in shenanigans - he is on vacation, after all.
Relationships: Jack Robinson & Lucifer Morningstar, Phryne Fisher & Lucifer Morningstar, Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Series: Devils, Detectives, and Questionable Decisions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548196
Comments: 25
Kudos: 113





	With the Devil on the Deep Blue Sea

**Author's Note:**

> It turned out I wasn't done with Phryne Fisher meeting the Devil. We still really needed to see Jack Robinson meet Lucifer too, didn't we? So, here goes! 
> 
> (This is a continuation of my Phryne/Lucifer fic - ten years later.)

Jack Robinson, Senior Detective Inspector of City South, Melbourne, was far from his familiar world. He had left Australia a couple of weeks earlier, travelling on a steamer towards England. It had been a fast decision – he had given himself barely a week of preparation before boarding the ship, determined not to let Phryne wait for longer than necessary. After that bout of rashness, the traveling itself had been slow and steady. Sometimes he felt like they weren’t even making progress, though every port they stopped at reminded him he was wrong. 

He was currently standing at the railing, looking out into the grey-blue sea; it was unending to his eye. The skies, of almost the same shade of grey, threatened with bad weather and rain had slowly started to drizzle. There was no land in sight, and none to come for some time yet, he knew. They were in the middle of the Arabian Sea, having left Colombo a few days earlier and set for Port Aden for their next stop. The large steam ship was working incessantly beneath him; his body had become so used to the feeling of it he hardly noticed anymore. He was alone on deck – the other passengers didn’t seem to want to brave the bleak weather. 

Jack had to close his eyes in response to the feeling of the infinite before him. Here he was, on a ship that to the passengers’ minds was large, but to the ocean nothing but a tiny drop. For the second time in his life, he was travelling by boat from Australia. Last time it had been in the company of young, eager men searching for glory and doing their duty to King and Country. Now, it was to follow Phryne Fisher across half the world. He had to chuckle at himself. He had never been a person for grand, romantic gestures. And yet, here they were. She in England, and he on a ship, coming after her just as she’d asked.

But as much as he could laugh at himself, he really didn’t regret a thing. If this was a grand gesture, it was the kind that suited the woman he loved. Writing a telegram to tell her he would follow her was not a difficult thing to do. He wanted to follow her everywhere. And he hoped that, from time to time, she’d perhaps want to follow him too. 

Jack sighed at his own musings and leaned on the railing, trying to keep his mind from always going back to that very woman with her ocean blue eyes and that short bob that always seemed to dare him by framing her teasing, red lips.

He’d been travelling for weeks, and he was getting a bit bored. People here were nice enough, but the novelty of the other travellers had worn off and he had nothing much to _do_. He thought up letters to Phryne that he would never send. He thought about how it would be to meet her again. He studied his travel companions, trying to deduce things about them, but all in all, he’d have been happy for the trip to be over. He had come to know the people he shared a table with at dinner fairly well. They met for almost every meal of the day, usually seated at the same table at all times. Twice a week there was a concert or other entertainment, so the passengers could mingle together. He had brushed up his dancing, and he couldn’t help but think that Phryne would be rather pleased about that.

Jack was travelling first class; another thing that made the journey different from last time. He had a small cabin to himself, instead of being one of many soldiers packed together in large rooms, and his dinner table was close to the captain, with a selection of the other travellers in first class. He had struck up a small friendship with Mr and Mrs Peabody of Wollongong, New South Wales. Old lady Granstone had interrogated him thoroughly of the reasons why crime rates had been going up lately, and it was a hard task trying to convince her they hadn’t. She was a stern interrogator – he saw some of his own technique in her, asking questions and not being afraid to wait for the answer – and he had become very fond of her. There was also the young Amelia Fairchlough, travelling with her parents and embarking on a European Grand Tour, just like the one Phryne had sent Jane on the previous year. 

His closest companion on the steamer had become Charlie Bingman. He was a man in his late twenties, with striking red hair and a fair complexion, and Jack knew for a fact that Miss Jane Bentham – travelling together with her reticent aunt and obviously interested in finding a husband – was eyeing him every chance she got. Jack had taken an interest in the lad, who reminded him of Hugh Collins. Although he was older than Collins, he had the same open, honest face, and he made Jack realise how much he missed his constable. They often talked and played games together, and Jack was surprised by how eager Charlie was to hear Jack’s opinions on life, work, and marriage. 

Just as he had finished that thought, Jack heard a small cough behind him and turned around to see the gangly, red-haired man shiver despite the long coat he was wearing.

“Think of the devil,” Jack said with a smile, “and he’s standing right behind you.”

“Afternoon, Mr Robinson,” the younger man replied. “I felt I needed some air, but the weather is rather damning today.” He waved with an unlit cigarette and then put it back in the inner pocket of his coat. “Not even giving a poor sod a chance to smoke.” 

Jack nodded and gazed at the sky.

“The rain will probably pick up soon. Perhaps the Captain will be right about the storm he predicted.”

“The Captain usually is right, isn’t he?” Charlie said and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “He also said this storm wouldn’t be too bad for us wretched people in the habit of becoming seasick.”

Jack smiled; Charlie was sick every time the weather turned bad. Usually he wouldn’t be able to eat for at least a day. Jack was rather happy the lad had never had to brave the sea to go to war; Charlie hadn’t turned sixteen until the Great War was over. 

The rain was starting to pour down properly.

“I think we better head inside,” Charlie said and turned to move.

Jack was just about to agree when he thought he saw something at the corner of his eyes – a movement in the middle of the sea. Surely, there couldn’t be anything there? But he turned to check; he knew better than to dismiss the proof of his senses. 

“Charlie, look at that,” he said to his companion. “Doesn’t that look like a man to you?”

It had first just been something flashing white, but now Jack could see a man, swimming. He must have been a kilometre or so away from the ship, but he swam with calm, steady strokes in the middle of an endless ocean. It really didn’t make any sense.

“Dear God, you are right, Mr Robinson! How is this possible?” Charlie’s face flushed red.

“I have no idea, but we have to get him up quickly,” Jack replied. “Run and fetch the first mate. Ask him to turn off the engines momentarily.”

Charlie rushed inside, yelling “Man overboard!” at the top of his lungs. 

Jack rolled his eyes at his dramatics but quickly ran along the railing to try to get as close as possible to the swimming man. 

“Mister! We will get you up! Stay calm,” he shouted, waving his hands. Only then did he realise the man seemed incredibly at ease. He stopped for a second to give a wave, and then continued to swim. 

Jack could feel the engines being turned off, and soon enough three men from the crew came bursting out of the door with Charlie in tow. They threw out a lifebuoy and when the man grabbed it, they started to haul him in. He seemed to have strength enough to hold on and to also find leverage with his feet. When they’d got him on their own level, three of them grabbed him to pull him over; Jack had the stranger’s right armpit in a steady grip. 

As soon as he was safe, they let him go so he could find his ground. He stood there, leaning with his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily. He was pale, his dark hair plastered to his brow, his body long, lean, and stark naked.

“This is not one of our passengers,” the first mate finally blurted out. “I have never seen him before.” 

Jack nodded, and a wide-eyed Charlie mumbled, “He just turned up. Out of thin air.”

The first mate turned to the stranger and spoke louder. “How could you be out here, in the middle of nowhere, Sir? Has there been a shipwreck somewhere?”

The man rose to his full height, which was quite impressive.

“There’s no shipwreck, just me. I must have misjudged my spot of appearance somewhat. Thank you for catching me, gentlemen.” 

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled.

“My name is Lucifer Morningstar. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

***

“I heard you were there to rescue the poor man,” Lady Granstone said as she sat down next to Jack. 

He was seated in the saloon adjacent to the dining room, watching people mill around and talk excitedly while waiting for dinner. After the dramatic saving of the man, the crew had taken Mr Morningstar to the Captain and Jack hadn’t seen more of him. Jack and Charlie had retreated to change clothes, since they had become quite wet from dragging the stranger up. 

Rumour, of course, spread like a forest fire on the ship. Everyone knew there was a new passenger around, and that he had inexplicably shown up in the middle of the ocean. Most of the first-class passengers were already in the saloon, waiting for the captain. The room was shivering with excitement. He nodded in reply to her question.

“You had a good look at him, then, Inspector Robinson?” Lady Granstone continued. “What did you make of him?”

“He sounded English, Ma’am,” Jack replied. “Apart from that, I cannot really give much detail.”

Of course, he could have given many more details – he was a detective, after all. The man had been completely at ease – with swimming in the middle of the ocean as well as with his nudity, and when someone had handed him a blanket it had taken him some time to catch on to the fact he should cover himself up – but Jack didn’t feel like gossiping, and he liked to keep his cards close to his chest. His brain was far from done with prodding at the mystery of a man suddenly appearing in the middle of nowhere. How was that possible? How had the sea seemed completely unbroken, and then suddenly a man was breaching the surface? 

“This is so exciting! A shipwrecked gentleman! A fellow traveller in need,” his companion gushed. ”We’ve had such a drought onboard lately, and whatever could have happened, this is really the most thril–“. Suddenly, she fell silent, and the whole saloon seemed to hold its breath. Because through the door came their broad chested, burly captain, a tall stranger by his side.

_“It’s him,”_ a whisper was heard from one of the corners, young Amelia Fairclough stage whispering into her mother’s ear. The whole room had its eyes fixed on the newcomers. _ “I said he would be tall, dark and handsome, didn’t I?” _ Her mother hushed her, but it was obvious that many had heard, including the stranger who tilted his head slightly. 

The Captain hurried to fill the silence.

“Dear travellers, as you know, we had an unusual day today, as we picked up Mr Morningstar here from the sea. He will be joining us to Southampton, and we, of course, thank our lucky stars we were able to be of assistance.” The captain nodded jovially to them all. “Also, thank you to the gentlemen who have kindly lent some garments to our newcomer, who came here without a thread on his body.”

The last statement created noticeable blushes here and there in the room. 

“Thank you, Captain, passengers. I am very grateful for your assistance,” Mr Morningstar said in impeccable and composed English, before smiling a radiant smile and bowing slightly. He touched the sleeve of his shirt as if there ought to be a cufflink to adjust, and then ceased as he realised there wasn’t. 

He was dressed in a white shirt and a beige suit, and although they were obviously a little too wide and too short for him, he still looked divine. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, not really obscuring the intensity of his dark brown eyes, framed by long eyelashes. He didn’t seem to suffer any side effects from his prolonged time in the cold sea; he held himself in a posture that spoke of equal parts grace and control. Jack understood why there were some young women that blushed at the sight of him; more curiously, there were several men who did, as well. 

Including young Charlie, his face almost matching his hair in redness.

The captain cleared his throat and clapped his hands. 

“Now, it’s time for dinner. Please, Mr Morningstar, join me at the Captain’s table.”

The passengers all started talking again as the captain lead the way. Jack escorted Lady Granstone to their table. The evening was almost normal, although everyone cast a glance at the captain’s table ever so often to see what the mystery man was up to. He did nothing suspicious all evening; he ate with a healthy appetite, relished in the wine that was served, and talked to the people around him. He smiled when they hardly seemed able to stop looking at him. 

_A most mesmerising man_, Jack thought to himself as he took a gulp of his wine. He couldn’t decide whether that was something he should count as suspicious or simply as a rather unusual trait.

***

The next morning after breakfast, Jack was sitting in the ship’s saloon, in one of the separate areas created for reading. There were a handful of desks placed there, to be used by the travellers at their leisure. His nose was stuck in a book; he was determined to keep up his morning routine like he would have at home, and since he didn’t have access to newspapers, he instead read a book. This one he had borrowed from Amelia Fairclough, but he had trouble concentrating; he reread the same paragraph again and again, his brain thinking about anything but a ghost roaming some estate on the English countryside. 

“Mr Robinson, I presume,” a velvety voice suddenly purred in his ear, and it took all his training as a policeman to not jump out of his skin. 

He looked up to see the strange man from yesterday looking down at him, leisurely sitting at the corner of his desk as if it was the most natural thing in the world. There was something in his unabashed smile and his lithe posture that made Jack’s heart constrict, as it reminded him so much of Phryne. The man had the same hair colour too, his hair now smoothly arranged – someone must have been kind enough to lend him some hair product, too – but his large, beautiful eyes were dark brown rather than blue-green. Jack didn’t know why he had got such a vivid image of Phryne, and he shook his head slightly to free himself of it. He had to concentrate; he couldn’t get lost in memories.

“Mr Morningstar,” he replied, leaning back in his chair slightly so he could get a better position to view the man.

“You were the one who saw me and alerted the others, I have been told. I wanted to especially thank you, Mr Robinson,” the man said. 

There was something mesmerising with his eyes, and Jack found he could hardly look away. After a long while, he blinked.

“Please, call me Jack,” he said, offering his hand. “Everybody else does. That, or Inspector Robinson, but I don’t have any jurisdiction here.”

“Inspector?” Mr Morningstar said as he took his offered hand and held it; he was warm to the touch, Jack noticed. “A policeman, then? And you should call me Lucifer.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not particularly fond of the other titles people use for me.”

Jack smiled at his non-sequitur.

“It’s a miracle we happened to come by exactly when we did yesterday,” Jack said. “I’m loathe to think what would have happened if we’d missed you.”

“Oh, I’m grateful you found me, it makes everything so much easier,” Lucifer replied. “Otherwise I’d have had to swim for _days_. And it’s not my favourite pastime.” A small shudder went through his body, and Jack got the mental image of a cat trying to rid its fur of water. “I don’t know how I could miscalculate so grossly.”

“Miscalculate? Did you hit something with your boat?” Not that it made much sense to be out here in a small boat, but Jack was grasping at anything that could make sense of the situation.

“Oh no. No. I mean when I come up to the surface, I usually manage to land near beaches, or perhaps in a secluded piece of greenery. I don’t usually end up in the middle of an ocean.”

“Come up to the surface?”

“From Hell. I’m the Devil, that’s where I’m from.” He shrugged, not the least bothered by Jack’s surprised look. “But this time, I did a less stellar landing. Still doesn’t beat that time I landed in Vesuvius, I suppose. It’s lucky the Devil doesn’t burn easily.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Jack cocked his head. Lucifer was talking so leisurely, like this was the most natural of conversations. He didn’t seem the least mentally unstable, even though he casually talked about being the Devil. So, Jack concluded, it seemed the stranger _really_ didn’t want to consider how easily he could have died. His mind just went into overdrive to talk about something else instead. Or perhaps he was hiding something. Like, for example, who he really was, and why he had been alone out in the middle of the ocean.

Jack contemplated the smiling man before him, who now had reached out his hand to flip the book so he could see what Jack was reading, _The Ghost of Canterville_.

“Oh, Oscar,” he said, delighted. “A lovely fellow. He really lived up to his last name.” 

Jack blinked, again at a loss for how to reply. Was there a method in this madness, a way to figure Lucifer Morningstar out beyond his absurd comments? 

Jack decided, then and there, that he would solve the mystery of this enigmatic man before the voyage was over. It was a perfect case for a mind missing the thrill of detective work. This would help him keep his thoughts away from Phryne at least a little bit – from contemplating what she would say when they met, and what he would do, and his fear of something going wrong. He really needed to get out of his own head a bit. This Lucifer fellow may be a strange man, but he was quite pleasant too. Jack decided to change the subject.

“So, how are you settling into life on the ship?” he asked politely. “Was there a spare cabin that you could use?”

“Oh, are you offering to share, Inspector? What a gentlemanly thing to do,” Lucifer said, his voice turning deeper and smoother. 

“I… no, I…” Jack stammered unhappily, before he caught on to how Lucifer’s eyes sparkled. “You are pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to, I assure you. But yes, I did receive a cabin of my own. The alternative might have been more fun, though.” 

The mischievous turn of Lucifer’s smile was a sight, and he did something rather indecent with his tongue. 

Jack felt his cheeks getting warm. How could this man affect him so much, with just a smile and a silly comment? Jack wasn’t a man who was easily flustered, and on top of that he had more than a year’s training by working alongside Phryne. He really should be able to do better than this. He straightened his face, just as he would against an onslaught of Miss Fisher.

Lucifer’s eyes travelled over him, deliberately and slowly, taking in the figure he cut in his neat three-piece suit and perfectly straight tie.

“I’d be happy to join you anytime, Jack,” he leered, “I do enjoy a man who commands his sartorial elegance.” 

Alright, this kind of flirtation Jack knew how to deal with. This was not a new thing for him, although he’d never been party to it from a man before. He steeled himself, trying to remember how he usually mastered this kind of situation. Setting his jaw squarely he gave Lucifer a stern look – one of his best unwavering _no, Miss Fisher_ ones.

Lucifer’s delicate lips straightened as he caught the other man’s eyes, his eyebrows rising into the hairline. He leaned slightly forward, the intensity of his brown, deep eyes making Jack feel like he was at the other end of an electrical cord. 

“But that doesn’t seem to be what you want, now, does it?” Lucifer murmured. “Despite your… obvious response to me. This is very interesting.” 

“What is?” Jack exhaled, bewildered at the swift turn of the conversation. But before either of them could say anything more, someone entered their secluded place.

“Mr Morningstar! There you are! I have been looking all over for you.” 

It was Mrs Peabody, clasping her hands together. “We are just setting up a game of cards and I was hoping we could tempt you to join?”

Lucifer broke eye contact with Jack and turned his dark eyes on Mrs Peabody instead. “A game of cards? That does seem quite on brand,” he replied with a smile. “Of course, a lady like you can tempt me.”

Mrs Peabody blushed, and her smile turned dreamy. “I’m happy to hear it, Mr Morningstar.”

Lucifer rose from his place on the corner of the desk. “Please, call me Lucifer, Mrs Peabody. And lead the way.” 

As they exited the desk area, Lucifer threw a glance Jack’s way and winked. When he finally was out of the room, Jack exhaled, deflating slightly. What had just happened? He hadn’t felt like this – like being run over by a freight train at full speed – since his early days with Phryne. 

Mr Lucifer Morningstar was certainly something he had never seen before. Jack pushed the book away from himself and tapped his fingers against the surface of the desk. He was going to figure this odd man out.

***

“How are things with Miss Bentham?” Jack asked Charlie as they took a walk on deck the next day. The sun was out and they had a habit of strolling together to get some fresh air in the afternoon.

“I…” Charlie said, blushing. “She spent all evening yesterday looking at me.”

Jack eyed his companion, trying to suss out Charlie’s feelings on the subject. As much as he usually was an open book like Collins, this was the one area where he was confounding. Miss Bentham – a lovely girl from Sydney, beautiful and with her long blond hair carefully collected at her neck to make it look like a bob, after the latest fashion – had clearly taken a liking to the sweet, red-haired man. Both Lady Granstone and Mr and Mrs Peabody had been delighted to encourage the two, finding ways to leave them by themselves whenever an opportunity presented itself. Charlie seemed to enjoy Miss Bentham’s interest, but there was still something holding him back. Had it been Collins, Jack would simply have pushed them in each other’s direction with subtle hints, but he wanted to make sure before he used any of his persuasive powers.

“And is that a good thing?” he asked, flatly.

“I’m… I’m not sure, Mr Robinson,” Charlie replied. 

The lad clearly needed a distraction, Jack decided. And Jack needed information. He mulled this over for a little while, looking out into the sea where they could now see hints of a shore, watching as Charlie lighted his second cigarette. He decided to take a chance. Charlie wasn’t really cut out to be a real sleuth, but he was reliable, and his affability and keen interest meant he could be in places and watch things without immediately raising suspicions.

“You know I am usually a policeman, even as I am now on vacation?” he started, and Charlie nodded, dragging the smoke into his lungs and exhaling slowly.

“Oh yes, that is ever so fascinating,” he answered. “It was a pleasure to listen to Lady Granstone grilling you about every crime ever committed in Australia.” He smiled a cheeky smile.

“Yes, well,” Jack said with a small smile of his own. “An occupational hazard.” Then he turned serious, still looking at Charlie from the corner of his eye. “I have a problem I need to suss out, and I could use some help. What do you say?”

Charlie’s eyes went wide, and he turned fully to his companion.

“You want me to help? Oh, that would be marvellous!” he said, his voice turning up a notch from excitement. “What is it all about? Are there some nefarious dealings on this ship I don’t know about?” 

“Not nefarious, necessarily, but there is an enigma I can’t manage to solve,” Jack answered. “It’s our new guest, Mr Morningstar.”

Charlie pricked up his ears, giving a fine imitation of an eager watchdog.

“Mr Morningstar! He really is a mystery, isn’t he,” he said, eyes gleaming of interest. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to keep your eyes open and see what he is doing. Try to mingle so you’re close enough to be able to hear him talking, when possible. Just observe and tell me what you notice. It could be a good way of getting some excitement into this leg of the trip,” Jack said, and then added casually. “And a good way to keep your mind away from how to deal with Miss Bentham.”

Charlie blushed again, just as Jack had anticipated. He really was getting the hang of the man.

“Well, yes, err –” Charlie said, and Jack interrupted him.

“I don’t mean to pry, Charlie. But if you’d want to help me, I’d be very grateful.”

“Of course, Mr Robinson. It would be my pleasure. I’ll begin right away.”

Jack saw the boy – he couldn’t help but think of him as a boy, even though he really was old enough to be a family man – eagerly walk down the deck to seek out the common areas. It felt good to have a constable on the case. 

***

Lucifer was treated like a celebrity by the whole first-class community, and he was having a very pleasant time. To be stuck on a ship, together with a few hundred people, all with nothing much to do – it was a fantastic place for the Devil. 

He’d been taken care of immediately by the friendly captain and his men. He was given a cabin in first class and some spare clothes that almost suited him. Alone by himself he managed to dry his wings out and don the unfamiliar garments, so he could join the people for dinner. The food wasn’t spectacular, but still enjoyable, especially compared to the choices in Hell. And the company was certainly preferable. 

How he had come to land in the middle of an ocean this time he had no idea, but since he found the steamer and was fished out it had still worked out well for him. It seemed he was going to spend this vacation the way humans did – travelling and enjoying himselves while on the road.

The passengers spent a lot of time playing games, especially cards. That was a kind of debauchery he quite enjoyed, and quite easily turned into flirtation too. The strolling on the deck, the concerts and the dances – they were all excellent places to meet new people, and everyone was interested in the dashing man who had been picked up at sea. His claim to be the Devil made him even more interesting to them, as they deemed him “quite _risqué_”. The first and second classes weren’t really meant to mingle, and single men weren’t supposed to see young women by themselves, but these kinds of restrictions had never bothered Lucifer Morningstar. 

Before a week had passed, he was familiar with more than one of the cabins and had learned something of the differences between first class and second class. He had seduced both women and couples – though, perhaps, _seduced_ wasn’t the right word for it. With so few entertainments at hand, they practically groped after him. 

Not that he minded.

What he had noticed, however, was a man who seemed to follow his moves, often being close by and listening in. He thought he was being stealthy, but Lucifer had lived a long life among demons – there was no way he was going to miss something like that. He wasn’t sure what the lad was actually up to, why he was so interested. Lucifer thought he recognised him – he might have been one of the men who fished him out of the water – but he had never spoken to him. 

Once he’d started to watch out for the lad, he saw him almost everywhere. In the saloon, sitting at a table when Lucifer was playing cards. Innocently walking on the deck close enough to almost hear his conversation with the lovely Miss Carlton, whom he’d spent a pleasant time with the night before. Blushing and swiftly looking in another direction when Lucifer caught his eye. It piqued his curiosity. What was this man after? And how could he be so foolish to think Lucifer wouldn’t notice his interest? 

Well, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there? Lucifer was sitting in the saloon and saw the man follow his movements from a side table. He put up a show, looking around him as if he was trying to see that no one was watching, and then overly stealthily walked to one of the doors and out into a corridor. He walked down to a nook where he could hide himself and waited.

After less than a minute, he heard the door open, and footsteps coming his way. As the man had almost caught up to him, he stepped out into the corridor, right in front of him.

“Hello, young man,” he said, his smile sharp as a shark’s. “It seems you are following me.”

The man in front of him blushed deeply, and Lucifer almost felt sorry for him. But no, not really – as much as he loved attention he hated being followed, hated being proven right that people were after him. As if he hadn’t quite enough of that with celestial siblings and demonic subjects.

“I… I…” the man stuttered. 

Lucifer took a step closer to him. “Yes?” 

“I… it’s not what it looks like,” the man blurted out, clearly flustered. 

“What does this look like, then?” Lucifer asked.

“I… I don’t know. I’m sorry, Mr Morningstar. I am not… I was just…”

The poor boy was clearly not going to spill the beans easily, and Lucifer was certain he wasn’t a real threat.

“Let’s get a drink,” he said, out of the blue, grabbing the man’s shoulder and steering him back towards the saloon. “And you will tell me what you’re up to.” 

The man nodded and allowed himself to be manhandled.

“What is your name, by the way?” Lucifer added. “It’s bizarre to question someone you don’t know.”

“I… I’m Charles Bingman. I was there the day you arrived, I helped you get onto the ship.”

“Ah yes. Nice to meet you, Mr Bingman,” Lucifer said sarcastically.

“Please, call me Charlie,” the man answered, and Lucifer was quite impressed he wanted to put away the titles at such a time.

“Alright, Charlie,” he said. “Let’s have a chat.”

When they made it to the saloon, he pointed the boy to a table and fetched them two drinks. Then he sat down next to Charlie, leaning towards him like a predator.

“Now, Charlie –” Lucifer started, but he didn’t get farther before the man interrupted him.

“I wasn’t really following you, Mr Morningstar. I was just keeping an eye out. Because you’re a mystery. Because I needed to get my mind off something that has been bothering me. And because you’re so fascinating.”

“Oh?” Lucifer said, cocking his eyebrow. 

“Mr Robinson may have asked me to keep an eye out for you, but really, I mostly wanted to do it for myself.”

“And why did he ask that?” 

“He wants to solve the case of who you really are, Mr Morningstar.”

Lucifer smiled at that. Of course, he did. Hadn’t the man said he was an inspector, after all? But he let that lie for now, deciding to concentrate on the young man before him. He leaned in to use his power of persuasion.

“And _you_, Charlie Bingman? What is it you desire?”

Charlie swallowed heavily and blushed; even as he was under Lucifer’s power, he was trying to resist, but to no avail. The answer was dragged out of him, whether he wanted it or not.

“You,” he gasped. “I want you.”

“Oh!” Lucifer blinked and released the man from his gaze. “Oh.” He hadn’t seen that coming; he hadn’t judged the man to be the type. “Are you sure?”

Charlie shuddered as he was released, but with the truth out, he didn’t seem to want to take anything back.

“I’ve had a crush on Mr Robinson for weeks, which is doomed to fail, but when I saw you, I just… knew. For all everyone wants to match me with Miss Bentham, that’s not really where my heart lies. Or my inclinations.”

Lucifer tilted his head at Charlie, amused.

“You took it upon yourself to look into me so you could look at me?”

Charlie laughed and took a deep gulp of his drink. He seemed relieved to be able to speak plainly.

“I suppose so.”

Lucifer looked the man over. He was very attractive: lean, with large blue eyes, and pale in that way only red-haired people were. His hair threatened to fall into his eyes and the freckles on his cheeks were simply enhancing his boyish beauty. His large hands seemed to always flutter, always be looking for something to do. Lucifer felt his inner desire awaken slowly, and he tilted his head at the man.

“Have you ever been with a man?” he asked, finally.

Charlie swallowed, in a rather endearing way.

“No. I’ve been trying to tell myself this wasn’t really how I feel. I know it’s shameful, and wrong, and that such feelings shouldn’t exist, but I can’t help it.” 

Lucifer shook his head at the statement, but Charlie plunged on. 

“I’ve tried to go out with women. I _like_ women. I was even on the brink of getting engaged once, but my sister talked me out of it.” 

“And now?”

“I’m on my way to England, to start a new life. To be… what I want to be.”

Lucifer let his eyes rest in the intense blueness of Charlie’s, thinking about his statement. He grabbed his drink and downed it.

“Fine,” he said finally. “Fine.”

Charlie looked at him with eyes large as saucers, his chest heaving with agitated breath. 

“Your cabin or mine?” Lucifer added. 

Charlie blinked, twice, before he took hold of himself and rose to his feet. He straightened his suit and cleared his throat, trying to look like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. 

“Right,” he said nervously. “Please, follow me, Mr Morningstar.”

“I do think you should call me Lucifer,” Lucifer said, with a hint of a purr in his voice. “It’s much easier to say in the throes of passion, after all.” 

Charlie nodded, even more flustered.

They walked in silence down one of the ship’s corridors, via some stairs, until they reached Charlie’s cabin. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Lucifer pushed Charlie against it. His hands grabbed the man’s hair as he crushed his lips against his. Charlie whimpered, before his arms reached out to pull Lucifer closer to him. Lucifer could feel the hardness of him against his thigh, the tension in his body, and the eager response of his mouth, and he deepened his kiss, enjoying the sound of Charlie’s moan as Lucifer squeezed his arse. 

When Charlie reached down to start unbuttoning Lucifer’s trousers, Lucifer gave him some space to do it, smiling encouragingly. Then he pushed Charlie onto the bed, placing himself above him to kiss him even harder, allowing his hand to stray further down. 

He was a Devil of his word, after all, and this part of who he was – well, he was basically providing a public service.

*** 

A couple of days later, Lucifer was heading for the saloon, hoping to be able to enjoy some music and drinks. He was getting a little restless. He had counted on Amenadiel fetching him after a week or less, like he usually did, and so he had dived into as much fun as possible for the short time he had – he was on vacation, after all. But now, more than ten days later, there was no sign of his overly zealous brother. It seemed Amenadiel hadn’t caught on – perhaps he was confounded by the ship being on the move? The thought made Lucifer snicker as he entered the room.

“Oh, Mr Morningstar, good evening!” he heard a voice as soon as he was inside. “We were just lamenting we haven’t heard piano music for days. Will you play for us?” 

It was the delightful young Miss Amelia Fairclough who asked, her innocent green eyes glimmering with anticipation. Lucifer found, as he so often did, that he couldn’t say no. Besides, he hadn’t played a piano for ages; it was one of the things he missed most when in Hell. 

He sat down at the instrument, running his hands tenderly over the piano keys without making a sound. The feel of them beneath his fingertips was luxurious; he supposed there really were things out there that were better than sex. He sighed contentedly before again turning to Miss Fairclough.

“What would you like to hear, then?” he asked.

“Beethoven!” Miss Fairclough replied, as she sat down nearby. “Or Cole Porter!”

Lucifer smiled; that was a broad request. Nothing he couldn’t manage, of course – he followed even the newest music down in Hell, through searching out the appropriate hell-loops. He was exceedingly proficient in ignoring the sinner and zooming in on the details on the side; that was the way he kept himself somewhat sane while down there. Peeking in on humanity, stealing small scraps and pieces of their normal lives for himself and his enjoyment – pretending for a second he wasn’t the ruler of Hell, but just another person living his life. He refused to consider how sad that might sound, instead thinking about his ingenuity in finding his way through the jungle of Hell. 

And sometimes he managed to search out the real thing too for a very short time, like now.

Lucifer played, and as he got more and more absorbed into it, more passengers sat down to listen. He saw the elusive Jack Robinson entering the room. He still hadn’t talked to him since the first days, although he definitely planned to. He wanted to know why the man had set his friend on him, and there was something about Jack’s behaviour that first morning that interested him as well. It wasn’t often he met that kind of resilience to his charms.

After a few minutes, none other than Jack Robinson came over to him, appearing before him as if he knew Lucifer had been thinking of him. Jack placed a large glass of whiskey on the lid of the piano.

“Thank you,” Lucifer said, and then, before Jack had the chance to move away, added, “I take it you’re a piano player, too?”

“Why would you think that?” Jack replied. 

“I could say because of your pianist fingers, but no, that’s not it. Because you immediately realised how thirsty the man at the piano can get, without being able to do anything about it.” He tilted his head at the glass.

“Spot on, Mr Morningstar,” Jack said, smiling. “I do play, though just a little. Nothing compared to you.”

Lucifer shook his head.

“I don’t believe you. Here, take over!”

And with a smooth movement to the side, while still leaning into the middle to play, Lucifer forced Jack to sit down and take over the keys. Jack picked up the song seamlessly.

Lucifer smiled contentedly, reaching out for his glass to take a long drag of it, observing the man at the piano.

“I told you so,” he said.

“Hm,” Jack grunted in concession, playing the melody for a while and adding some extra bass notes. Then he looked Lucifer in the eye and made the same move. “Your turn,” he said. 

Lucifer sat down and picked up the melody, just missing one note, which made him grimace.

“Seems like I won, Mr Morningstar,” Jack said, his mouth turning down into something Lucifer realised was a very small smile. The man had his own tell-tale signs, that one could learn to decipher. It was rather fascinating. 

After they had finished playing and been given enthusiastic applause, Lucifer sat down at a table and Jack came over with two new drinks, setting one in front of his new acquaintance. The bustling around them was subdued but created a nice atmosphere.

“That was quite enjoyable,” Lucifer said, and Jack nodded as he raised his glass. As he mirrored the gesture, Lucifer felt more humanlike than he’d done in a long time.

They were quiet for a while, until Jack broke the silence.

“What is your plan once you’re in England, Mr Morningstar? Do you have family there, or someone who’ll meet you?” 

The alcohol seemed to have affected him in such a way that his Australian accent was a little more noticeable than earlier.

“I don’t have plans. And definitely no family,” Lucifer replied. “I’m just here on vacation, to meet some normal humans and have as much fun as possible.” Lucifer frowned into his glass. “I’m sure my brother will fetch me back before I have even had a week for myself in England.”

“Then you have a brother,” Jack replied. “You said no family?”

“Oh, I have them alright. Just not in England. And my brother is always hell-bent – pun intended – to bring me back where I belong. Among the damned.” He grimaced as he said it.

Jack nodded to his comment as if it made sense. He had thought about the mystery of this man and his claims since they spoke last, and from what Charlie had reported back to him. Somehow, he felt, they did make sense – Lucifer’s statements – and spoke of some deeper truth; Jack just had to decipher it. 

He had decided it must be something unpleasant that Lucifer didn’t want to, or wasn’t really allowed to, talk about. 

“Last time I was nearby here I was in Paris,” Lucifer continued. “It was just after the war. The people were all so intense, trying to enjoy life while they could. Life sparkled. I get the feeling a lot has changed.” He swirled the whiskey in his glass for a while, and then added. “A decade for you humans means a lot of changes.”

“A decade is a long time,” Jack agreed, thinking about what had happened in his life since the war. So many things that were now unapologetically a part of his life. Becoming a detective inspector. Meeting Phryne Fisher. His divorce. Jailing his former father-in-law. Deciding to travel to England on the basis of a single kiss. He could hardly fathom that ten years ago, he had just got back from war and nothing about coming home had been the way he had imagined.

Lucifer interrupted his thoughts.

“So, what are your plans for going to England? Are you an immigrant?”

“Oh no,” Jack answered. After a short pause, and probably due to the alcohol and the intense brown eyes of his conversation partner, he disclosed more than he usually did. “I am following someone.”

“Following? Is it a criminal?” Lucifer’s eyes lit up with glee.

“It’s a woman,” he answered with a self-deprecating smile. He hadn’t told this story to anyone on the ship, but for some reason, Lucifer Morningstar seemed to break through his defences.

“Ah, of course it is,” Lucifer said. He berated himself for not immediately having seen the signs; it seemed Robinson was quite good at not giving things away. “That explains why you could withstand me when we met! You’re in love.”

Jack looked confused about his comment, but obviously decided to drop it and concentrate on the fact that he was, very much so. He nodded.

“She’s a lady detective,” he said, and Lucifer could see how his eyes turned dreamy. “She is the most formidable woman I’ve ever met. Clever, resourceful, annoying, and beautiful.” He smiled as he called her annoying, Lucifer noticed. Jack eyed his companion. “She’s not entirely unlike you. One could almost think you were her brother.”

“Why thank you,” Lucifer purred, his gaze not leaving Jack’s face. “I will take that as the highest compliment. But no, I don’t have any human siblings.” He smirked. “Though it does seem you have excellent taste.”

Jack smiled at that. 

He was rather surprised by himself, by how easily he kept up a repartee with this strange, alluring man. It was as if he dragged out the most playful side of him, the one only Phryne had managed to find before. It was probably because he was on vacation and stuck on a boat completely without duties. Jack realised, suddenly, that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been without duties for several weeks in a row. It must have been before the war. 

“The rhythm on this boat has been slow, and I admit you’ve made up a nice enigma to keep the mind occupied,” Jack said. “A man showing up out of nowhere, claiming to be the Devil, and easily becoming everyone’s friend. And sometimes more.”

Lucifer’s eyebrow shot up.

“You have been spying on me,” he said.

“Only a little,” Jack said. “Charlie helped me keep track a little, but he told me you caught him.” 

“I did,” Lucifer said. 

He scrutinized the man at his side for any sign of what he was thinking, but he gave nothing away. No inclination of how much Charlie had disclosed about what they had been up to, or if he had any thoughts about it. 

“Besides, it’s impossible to keep secrets on a boat like this,” Jack added. “There’s always someone noticing or overhearing.” 

He looked down into his drink before he again found Lucifer’s unblinking eyes. 

“You are a very nice enigma, Mr Morningstar. You have no clothes, no papers, no relatives, no known connections. Despite this, everything just gets arranged around you. You’re liked, admired, and everyone wants to help you.”

Lucifer conceded his point with an amused nod.

“So, what’s your verdict?” 

“If I had my detective partner here, I know we could find out for sure. She always sees the things I miss. But without her, I have finalised four different possibilities.”

“Oh, this I want to hear.” Lucifer’s eyes sparkled in delight as he regarded his new friend.

“Either you are, actually, the Devil, a mythical figure made incarnate to walk among the people, just as you claim.”

“Your phrasing is perhaps a little on the angelic side, but yes, I am.”

“Or,” Jack said, ignoring the interruption, ”you are a criminal – a con man or part of a mob group – though I would rather suspect the first.”

Lucifer laughed at that. “Oh, that does sound rather exciting.”

“Or, you’re a hypnotist, perhaps from a circus. Or, finally, you’re royalty, or from a very influential family.” Jack shrugged. “That’s all I have.”

“Not bad, _Inspector_,” Lucifer said, emphasising the title. “Not bad at all. I’m happy you wanted to share your findings with me. I suppose in a way you could say I am all those things.”

Jack just shook his head and smiled. He had known already he wouldn’t get a final answer, and he was fairly happy about his conclusions. If Lucifer Morningstar – the man with the oddest name he’d ever heard, save perhaps for Miss Phryne Fisher – wanted to be an enigma, then he supposed he would have to allow it.

***

They were nearing their destination; Jack could see the south coast of England slowly coming closer as he stood on the deck. Everyone was excited about the trip ending, and sweetly sentimental about breaking up from their newfound friends. 

Jack was finally starting to believe he was actually going to see Phryne again – that it wasn’t all a dream, despite how the ship had come to feel like its own secluded world. He was considering Charlie Bingman, and the way he had managed to finally tell Miss Bentham he wasn’t interested in her; a happy ending since it didn’t seem her heart was particularly broken. Jack knew Charlie would probably keep in contact for a little while, before disappearing into his new life in England. Jack hoped he would find what he was searching for. The lad truly deserved it.

And then there was the question of Lucifer Morningstar.

They had struck up a friendship of sorts. Jack had spent more time playing cards the last week than he had ever done before. Usually they played together with Charlie and Lady Granstone, and after much grumbling Lucifer had accepted Jack’s stubbornness to refuse to play for money. “But then where’s the fun?” he had asked, but it seemed he still managed to find it pleasurable enough. 

Jack also enjoyed listening to stories from times and places Lucifer claimed to have experienced. They were quite outlandish, but Lucifer also managed to make them sound plausible, using oddly specific details. Jack’s favourite story was from ancient Thebe, and that time when Lucifer explained how he’d helped Shakespeare with a few of his better jokes in _Hamlet_.

Jack had formed a new theory about his new friend and was now more inclined to think of him as an eccentric ancient historian turning to fiction writing. If that was true, he was certainly going to buy his books. 

Lucifer had said he had nowhere to go when he arrived in Southampton, but also that he wasn’t the least worried about that; he always found a way. The last night before their arrival, Jack asked if he wanted a ride to London. Phryne had promised in a telegram to meet him with a car, and that he certainly could offer his new friend to come with them if he wanted. _I’m sure we’ll have time for ourselves soon enough_, she’d added, which made his heart rate increase. 

And now, the arrival day had come. The coast of England had got closer and Jack could see Southampton, the port, and soon enough the colourful dots turning into people waiting. It didn’t take him many seconds to identify one of the brightest spots as Phryne. She wore a deep red cloche and a coat to match it, and he was sure she had decided to stand out as much as possible for him. He smiled.

When the plank was lowered and Jack had managed to finally be the next in turn to walk down it, he didn’t more than take a few strides on the soil of England before Phryne was standing before him.

“Jack,” she said, smiling broadly, her eyes bright and clear as stars. “You made it.”

“Phryne,” he said, all other words failing him, and he was sure everything he wanted to say was plainly written on his face.

She was here. He was here. He suddenly didn’t know if he was allowed to kiss her.

But Phryne was having none of his hesitation. Her hand grabbed his tie to pull him down, and she stood on her toes to give him the kiss they’d been waiting for so long. His arms snaked around her waist, holding her to him. It was a kiss with all the promises in the world, far too intimate for the setting.

When she retreated, her mouth turned in a satisfied curve, and her hand quickly reached out to swipe her lipstick from his mouth.

“Just a tad too much colour for a gentleman in broad daylight,” she whispered and winked at him.

Then she froze; Jack saw the exact moment when something caught her eye. She looked to his right, where a dark-haired man in an almost fitting suit had just appeared.

“Ah, allow me to introduce –” Jack started, gesturing to Lucifer. But before he could continue, Phryne already formed the words in her mouth.

“Lucifer Morningstar?” she exclaimed.

“Phryne Fisher?”

Jack looked between the two of them, his eyes large as he tried to understand what was happening. 

“I never thought I'd see you again,” Phryne continued.

“I like your hair. Very stylish,” Lucifer replied with a soft smile. 

“And you look exactly the same. It’s almost uncanny.”

“You made it to England.”

“Well, yes, and Australia. But that’s a different story.”

“You… know each other,” Jack stated flatly, finally managing to get some words in. 

Of course, they knew each other, he thought as he internally scolded himself. If he turned up with the most magnetic gentleman he’d ever met in his life, how could he even imagine that Phryne Fisher wouldn’t know him? He really should have seen this coming.

Phryne turned back to him, her eyes crinkling as she tilted her head.

“Is this your mystery gentleman, Jack?” He nodded helplessly. “Well, you do have a great taste in befriending people.” 

“He certainly does,” Lucifer interjected, his smile turning slightly sultry.

Her eyes took both gentlemen in as she continued. 

“We met right after the war, in Paris. I can’t believe it, but you haven’t changed at all. Still think you’re the Devil?”

“I _am_ the Devil, Miss Fisher.”

“He certainly does,” Jack replied. “Is he always like that?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes at them.

“Of course, I am. What’s the point in pretending?”

Both Jack and Phryne smiled at that, and then Phryne turned and grabbed Jack’s arm so she could put her hand around his bicep, like she always did.

“Alright, then it’s all settled,” she said. “We should get back to London. Father’s butler is waiting for us in the car, and your luggage will be delivered later.” 

She reached out her other hand to swiftly stroke Lucifer’s arm before she started to walk.

“Welcome to England, gentlemen.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Arlome for beta-reading! Thank you to Fire_Sign for encouragement and talking through plot points!


End file.
